


Dean's Hunting Trip

by httpsashtrid



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Additional Relationship Tags Added, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, F/M, John Winchester Tries, John Winchester and Sam Winchester Fight, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2018-11-15 00:10:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11219136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/httpsashtrid/pseuds/httpsashtrid
Summary: Everything is the same except John is the one to approach Sam at Stanford. Dean left John after a year of being alone with him once Sam leaves for college. Join Sam and John as they try to find Dean..Wherever he may be.





	1. Chapter 1

**2004**

 

Sam hadn't talked to Dean since the month he left. He slept with his phone at his side every night, secretly hoping he'd get a call, a text, _something_ from his brother. He was worried sick. He couldn't stand being away from Dean this long.  The first night without Dean sleeping in the same room in him was rough. 

 

_Sam had been laying in bed for hours_ _. He hadn't gotten a blink of sleep_ _. Jesus, what time is it?_

 

_4:00 AM_

 

_Damn it._

 

_He sighed_ _. He grabbed his phone and contemplated calling Dean, just to hear his voice_ _. He shook his head and put the device back down on the nightstand_ _._

 

_Suddenly, a short guitar instrumental of "Stairway To Heaven" by Led Zeppelin signaled that Dean had texted him_ _. He grabbed his phone faster than Dean grabbed his gun from under his pillow._

 

_Dean:_ Hey Sammy. I know you probably don't want to talk to me, but I just wanted to check in.

 

_Sam let out a breath in relief_ _._

 

_Me:_ I'm fine, Dean. You can call me or text me whenever you want. I could never hate the only person who ever gave a damn about me.

 

_Sam frowned_ _. He knew the text was a little harsh. Shrugging, he pressed Send anyway_ _. The reply came a few minutes later_ _._

 

_Dean:_ Well, that's a good thing. I'm off by myself right now. I need some time to breathe.

 

_Dean:_ And why the hell are you awake at 4 AM? You have classes tomorrow probably. Get to sleep, College Boy.

 

_Dean was off by himself? Since when?_

 

_Me_ _:_ If I'm honest, its hard to sleep without you. I'm used to hearing you snoring 5 feet away.

 

_He laughed when Dean replied._

 

_Dean:_ Hey, man, screw you. I do not snore! Only old people snore.

 

_Me:_ Guess you must be older than I thought, huh?

 

_Dean:_ Shut up, Sam.

 

_Sam laughed at first. It was like Dean was right next to him_ _. He could hear the annoyance in Dean's voice through the text_ _. The laughter faded when the tears fell._

 

_Me:_ I miss you, De.

 

_Dean's reply came a few minutes after it was read_ _. Sam knew Dean was trying to figure out what to say. He could see Dean sitting on a_ _skeezy_ _motel bed or driving in the Impala under the dark sky full of bright stars, staring at his phone, his fingers twitching, gears grinding in his head as he tried to find the words._

 

_Dean:_ I miss you too, Sammy. Go get some sleep. Go get the future I know you deserve. Bail me out of jail when I screw up. Love you, kiddo.

 

_The message brought more tears to his eyes_ _. They came down like an overflowing sink now. He had to put his phone down to wipe his eyes before picking it back up to shakily type out a reply_ _._

 

_Me:_ I love you too. Night.

 

_Dean:_ Night.

 

_Sam yawned and set his phone on the nightstand. He got sleep that night, even if it was only for 3 hours_ _._

 

After that night, he and Dean texted every night. Getting even the smallest of texts from Dean like _Kick ass at your exam today!_ or _Dude, I had this WICKED huge burger today. It was so good._ made his day. Sometimes, Dean called him. When he did, they'd spend hours talking on the phone about idiotic things.

 

_"Shut up, Dean," Sam laughed_ _._

 

_"Hey, man, I'm just saying. They have some pretty hot girls in college. If you swing that way, the guys aren't bad looking either," Dean told him_ _. "You could get laid every night, and no one would care."_

 

_"I'll pass. I don't need any sexually transmitted diseases," Sam said._

 

_".. This is a true statement."_

 

_"Who's that, Sammy?" Brady asked, taking Sam's phone_ _._

 

_"It's Sam, Brady, not Sammy," Sam punched Brady's shoulder. "And it's my brother, Dean."_

 

_"Then who's the dude you're always texting at night?" Brady asked._

 

_"Unless he's texting anyone else, it's me," Dean said._

 

_"You text your brother every single night for hours on end? Don't you have... I don't know, friends? A life?"_

 

_"Piss off, Brady!" Sam snatched his phone back from his friend. He was undeniably pissed off._

 

_"Its okay, Sammy_ _. Chill. You know how people are about us_ _. Remember that dick head that Dad knew who asked if we were screwing while Dad was asleep?" Dean soothed_ _. "Freak, right?"_

 

_"Yeah," Sam huffed a laugh. "Both you and Dad punched him out."_

 

_"Damn right. Asshole deserved it."_

 

_"Leave Sam alone, Brady," Jessica chastised. "You know how Sam is about his brother. You're lucky he didn't kick your ass."_

 

_"Thanks, Jess," Sam smiled at her. She shrugged and smiled back._

 

_"_ _Oooh_ _, who's Jess?"_

 

_Sam blushed_ _. "Shut up, jerk!"_

 

_"Bitch."_

 

After that call, Sam hasn't heard from him. He never called because he figured Dean was busy or something. Whatever.

 

**2005**

 

Sam's eyes shot open when there was rusting downstairs. Hunter instincts kicking in, he snuck downstairs stealthily, pistol in hand.  The outline of a familiar man came into his vision. He took the man down immediately. The two of them rolled for a few minutes until Sam finally had him pinned.

 

" _Dad?_ " Sam questioned.

 

"Nice to see you, Sam. Now can you let me up?" John said.

 

"Jesus Christ," Sam got up and helped John to his feet. "The hell are you doing here?"

 

"There's something up with Dean. I wanted to know if you knew anything," John answered.

 

"And you couldn't have called me?"

 

"I didn't know your number. Winchesters aren't very well known for being subtle."

 

"Are you sure Dean didn't just go out for a few days with a girl? He's 26, Dad. He's bound to do these things."

 

"Sam, he hasn't been home in a month. He hasn't called me or anything."

 

"Not liking a taste of your own medicine, are you, Dad?" Sam said pointedly. 

 

John sighed. "Now isn't the time for bad blood, Sam."

 

"Oh really?" Sam took a breath to say something else.

 

"Sam?" Jess's tired voice said.

 

Sam froze and turned to her. "Hey Jess. Go back to bed okay? I'll be up soon."

 

"Who is this?" Jess asked, gesturing to John.

 

"This your girlfriend?" John asked.

 

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. "Jess, babe, this is my deadbeat dad, John Winchester.  Dad, this is Jessica Moore, my girlfriend." 

 

John decided to ignore his comment. 

 

"Sammy, be nice. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Winchester," Jess put her hand out. John shook it. 

 

"You too, Jessica." 

 

"Why are you here, Dad, because I'm sure its not to meet my girlfriend and drop in and say hi," Sam shot out. 

 

"Cut the attitude, Samuel. If you're not gonna do it for me, you'll do it for Dean. He's been missing for a few weeks, and I need your help to find him," John explained. 

 

"Missing? Dean?" Jess asked. "Should I call the police?" 

 

"Nah, don't worry about it. I'm sure its nothing," Sam said, glaring at his father.

 

John laughed humorlessly. "Okay," he said slowly. "Dean's out on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days."

 

It slowly hit him. 

 

"Jess, could you excuse us for a second?"


	2. Chapter 2

“Have you talked to him?” Sam asked. 

 

“No. Not for a few months. He ran off with the Impala and all his clothes,” John replied.

 

“What made him run off? Dean doesn’t just run for nothing,” Sam said. “So, Dad. What did you say to Dean to make him finally realize that he’d had enough?”

 

“What makes you think I did something?”

 

Sam gave his father a thin smile. “I know my brother. Unlike you.”

 

John shot him a dirty look and clenched his jaw before looking away. He thought about retaliating. Instead, he said, “Fine. We got into an argument. You came up somehow. After a few minutes, Dean got pissed.”

 

_ “You shouldn’t have said the shit you did to him that day.” Dean said. _

 

_ “What are you talking about?” John asked from his bed. He was flicking through the channels on the motel’s crappy television. Dean sat on his own bed beside his father’s with his phone in his hand.  _

 

_ “To Sam. You know what you said to him,” Dean said. Despite his scarily calm tone, his anger was evident. “You really hurt him, you know.”  _

 

_ Clicking off the TV, John turned to his eldest. “Where is this coming from?” _

 

_ “Oh, I’ve been pretty pissed at you about it. I’m just saying it now because you can’t run off this time,” Dean shrugged. _

 

_ “I’m happy to know you’re speaking your mind finally, but I suggest you watch your tone,” John warned. Dean had been giving him a nasty silent treatment again for the past week and a half like he did when Sam first left.  _

 

_ “Or what? You’ll kick me out and tell me never to come back because I have a mind of my own?” Dean countered. This really caught John’s attention.  _

 

_ “Look, I don’t know where this attitude is coming from, but I don’t like it. You’re starting to sound just like Sam.” _

 

_ “Maybe that’s a good thing, yeah?” Dean stood from his bed. “Sammy is the smartest person I’ve ever met. He went off for more in his life,  _ which by the way he deserves.  _ He went off for more for himself, and you made him feel horrible for it.” Dean snapped. “I mean, what was it to you anyway? All you ever did was fight with the kid. You never talked to him. You never had to hear him cry in the backseat when you ripped him away from whatever school  we were in, Dad. I did. Now that you’ve lost any control you had on him, you’re pissed. That’s your own deal. Because of you, though, I can’t talk to my brother, who I  _ raised.  _ I have to go weeks on end without any text or call from him.” _

 

_ “I knew there was something off with you,” John said. “I thought I told you not to talk to him. He’s gonna tell you a bunch of lies to make me look bad.” _

 

_ “And I thought you loved and cared for you kids. I guess we were both wrong,” Dean spat. “I’m done with you two always fighting, and I’m always in the middle of you.” _

 

_ John was quiet for a moment. “You finished?”  _

 

_ Dean’s expression was steel. “Yes. I’m finished.” _

 

_ “So what do you want me to get out of that whole speech?”  _

 

_ “I’m saying I want you to apologize to Sam, and I want you to really mean it.” _

 

_ “But-” _

 

_ “No. No buts. I’ll have you and Sam talk and apologize or whatever.”  _

 

_ Anger and frustration bubbled up inside of John as badly repressed memories resurfaced. “I don’t care that I hurt him. Shit happens. We’re family,” he said. “Well, we  _ were  _ family. Sam left us, Dean. He left  _ you.  _ You have to accept that. He doesn’t want us anymore. He doesn’t  _ need you.  _ That was his own choice. Just like you said, I’m done. I’m done with him.” _

 

_ Something snapped inside of Dean then. Any sense of the kind, understanding person people had come to know after almost twenty six years vanished instantly. His tone was stone cold, and his stance was ridgid. His jaw was set. “Fine. This proves my point,” he said, his voice terrifyingly soft. “If you don’t care, neither do I.”  _

 

_ He grabbed the keys to the Impala and the bag he’d been living out of his whole life. He turned to the door.  _

 

_ “Where are you going?” John asked. His stomach had dropped to the floor beneath him. Dean turned to him once he snatched the silver flask his father drank out of off the corner table.  _

 

_ “Out,” he echoed. That was the last word Dean would hear from his father before he disappeared. That was the last word John heard from Dean before he ran away.  _


	3. Chapter 3

Eventually, John and Sam made their way down the dark back roads of the border of California. The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon as they made it to Oregon's welcome sign. Sam was typing away at his laptop, his long fingers dancing intensely over the keys as he Google searched Dean Winchester. Unfortunately, nothing appeared. His eyebrows knitted together, and his tongue poked out from between his lips. John sat behind the wheel, lips drawn into a thin line.

“So… how’s the research going? Does anything come up?” he inquired. Sam rolled his eyes and forced out a breath through his nose.

“Does it look like it’s going very well, Dad?” he shot back. He sighed and ran his hand through his bangs. He took on a calmer attitude when he added, “So you have absolutely no idea where he could be?”

“None whatsoever, sadly. It’s not like he had very many friends.”

“Did he ever call anyone? Text?” Sam asked.

“Well the only one he was close to was Bobby-"

“Shit,” Sam smacked himself in the head. “I should’ve thought of that.” He grabbed his phone from his pocket and flipped it open. Immediately, he was searching his contacts for Bobby Singer's many phone numbers.

“Sam, you do know that it's 4 AM, right?” John looked at him skeptically.

Sam shot him a cold look. “My brother's safety is more important than someone's sleep schedule.” He said lowly. He turned his attention back to his phone. “and anyway, I know Uncle Bobby's up. That man never sleeps.”

After a few rings, a gruff voice picks up the phone. “Agent Carl Gallagher at Sioux Falls PD, how can I help you?”

“Hey Uncle Bobby,” Sam said.

“Sam?” Bobby breathed out. “Well I'll be damned. I never thought I’d hear your voice again. Would it kill you to call every once in a while, idjit?”

Sam huffed out a laugh. “Sorry. Here’s me calling.”

Bobby guffawed. “Yeah, ass.” Sam’s heart warmed hearing his second father's voice. “So what’s up? I know you ain’t about to call me randomly at 4 AM for nothin'.”

“I’m calling to check on Dean. How is he?”

“Hell if I know. I haven’t talked to him in months. Last I heard he was headed to Ellen's.” Bobby sighed. “Your daddy really broke your brother's heart good, Sam. I got a bone to pick with that son of a bitch.”

John visibly winced. He must have heard Bobby's words. Sam had no sympathy. As Bobby's words replayed in his mind, a lightbulb went off. He brightened and grabbed a pen and paper.

“You said Ellen, right?”

“Yeah. Is everything alright?”

“It will be,” he answered.

“What-"

“No time to explain. What’s this woman's name? Ellen…?” Sam said quickly, opening his pen and pressing it to the paper.

“Harvelle,” John and Bobby said simultaneously. Sam furrowed his brows and looked at his father in confusion.

“Hey thanks Bobby. I promise I'll explain later. Thank you.” With that, he hung up before any more questions could be asked. He directed his attention to John. “How do you know her?”

“Long ass story.” It pained Sam to see the grin John made. It was the same one Dean made. His heart twisted, and the burn of tears threatened his eyes. He blinked them away, but the urge to text Dean or see Dean or just hear his breathing became stronger. “But I do know one thing. Dean had to have stopped there if he’s any son of mine. Any hunter in his right mind stops at Harvelle’s for a drink.”

Sam groaned. “Dad, I swear to God, if you bring me into a strip club, I will not hesitate to shoot you in the chest with rocksalt.”

John snorted. “Dean almost kicked your ass when you did that.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “Okay, that was an accident.”

“I can still hear his little fifteen year old voice.”

“Son of a bitch, Sam, I’m gonna kick your little 5'4 ass!” they said together, bad impressions of Dean, voice cracks included. The two erupted into laughter. The ice broke for the first time, and light shone through the cracks. Once the laughter died down, then the tears came. They started as small drops and kept coming.

“Sam?”

“I’m fine,” he snapped, swiping angrily at his eyes. His voice broke when he took a breath to calm down. “I just… I miss him. So much.”

The Impala suddenly pulled to the side of the road. The sun shone directly into Sam's eyes, the green in them standing out prominently when he looked up. John put the car into park and put his hand on his son's shoulder, thankful when he doesn’t flinch away as if he’s been burned like John expected.

“I know you miss him, Sammy,” he said, his voice softer than Sam had heard in years. “But we'll find him.”

Sam sniffed and ran his hand through his hair with a sigh. “I know we will. I’m just worried I guess.”

“And I’m sure you are. If Dean were in your place, he’d be the same way. Probably much worse at holding it together though because, as much as I hate to admit it, that boy raised you from basically the ground up.”

“Yeah…” Sam took a breath to calm his shaking hands. “Sorry. Let’s just get to the Roadhouse and find my brother.”

John grunted in confirmation and pulled back onto the road. He turned the radio on to a soft rock station. Sam rested his head on the window an closed his eyes. Exhaustion suddenly filled him. A memory of his older brother washed through him.

Miles and miles of road flew away from them. Eleven-year-old Sam Winchester had his head on the window in the back seat. Nothing was necessarily wrong at the moment. The only issue Sam usually had was the overwhelming feeling of loneliness, something no eleven year old should have to experience. He let out a breath.

The radio was playing semi loudly. This sort of music aggravated Sam sometimes, and one of those times was now. It sort of made his blood start to warm up.

“Sammy?” the voice of a fifteen-year-old Dean Winchester came from the opposite side of him. He turned his head to look at him. Dean’s expression looked worried with his eyes questioning.

He smiled a little. “I’m okay, De.”

Dean pressed his lips into a thin line. Sam knew Dean didn’t believe him for a second. “Well in either case,” he started. “C`mere."

“What? Why?”

“’Cause I said so.”

Thankfully, Sam hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet, (It started two years later, much to Dean's dismay.). He curled up in his brother's lap, his head on his chest and his feet laying across the bench seat. A breath of relief passed his lips when Dean's heartbeat echoed through his ears. Dean ran his fingers through his thick hair. Immediately, Sam’s eyes shut. He could hear Dean singing lowly to the music. It was very quiet, almost as if he was afraid to be heard. Hearing Dean sing was such a rare but beautiful thing. Sam never knew much of his mother, but he had heard Dean screaming for “Hey Jude” by The Beatles to be turned off when he was seventeen a few years later when it had come on the radio. Dean had cried for an hour after that. When Sam asked, Dean had shakily told him that Mom would sing it to him at night before he went to sleep. He must have inherited her voice.

Before he had fallen asleep, he heard the steady beat of Dean's heart and the soft sound of his singing.

Sam fell asleep with tears burning his eyes again.

 

“Sam, hey.”….. “Sam.”… “Sam!”

Sam jerked awake to the sound of his name being called. His face was stiff from the tears drying on his face, and his arm was sore from lying on it.

“Hm?” he grunted.

“Come on. We’re at the Roadhouse.”

 


End file.
